


Red Circles & Black Xs

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Erotica, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-16
Updated: 2008-12-16
Packaged: 2018-10-25 17:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10769166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Life now seems to be comprised of red circles and black xs





	Red Circles & Black Xs

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** [](http://community.livejournal.com/hermione_smut/profile)[**hermione_smut**](http://community.livejournal.com/hermione_smut/) fic for [](http://hpffthequibbler.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://hpffthequibbler.livejournal.com/)**hpffthequibbler**

Today is a Black X Day. In fact, there isn’t a Red Circle Day for a solid week and a half, which doesn‘t make any sense.

Ron stares at the calendar and sighs, wondering when he stopped noticing the day of the week and started categorizing everything as either a Black X or Red Circle day. It happened sometime during the last eighteen months, but he can’t remember exactly when time seemed to become this twisted agenda of red and black.

It’s been worse the last four months, since Harry and Ginny’s announcement. Before that, he could occasionally distract Hermione from her lists and charts if the mood struck. While his mind might understand, in a really vague not completely clear way, his body doesn’t care what color the day is marked. He’s only twenty-six, after all, and he and Hermione haven’t even been married five years yet. Sure, they’ve been together since they were teenagers, but he doesn’t count that because marriage changed things.

Of course, the fact that their marriage happened around the same time as their promotions at the Ministry probably caused a lot of those changes, but he doesn’t care about specifics. Marriage is different than living together and lying to his mum about him still living at Grimmauld with Harry. No, not lying. Just embellishing the truth in a way that placated her so she wouldn’t realize he was basically living at Hermione’s flat.

With a groan, he turns away from the calendar and rubs his head. He hates thinking when there are other ways to spend his time. It’s just finally reached a time when he can’t keep putting off dealing with this. He’s let it go for a year and a half, after all. It’s not like he doesn’t want a child, too. He just wants it to happen naturally, when it’s time, and it’s obviously not time right now if they’re having to go to this much trouble. Hermione won’t listen to him, though, which is frustrating as hell.

Normally, he loves her stubborn passionate nature. It’s one of the reasons he fell for her, even if it’s infuriating and hard to live with sometimes. They’ve had to work to keep their relationship solid, especially after the war when it came close to falling apart as they realized they didn’t know each other as well as they always thought. But they survived and came out stronger, and he can’t help thinking this is another time when they just need to let things happen.

Hermione’s general life plan had them having a baby when she was twenty-five, though, and she’s big on her plans. He didn’t complain about her scheduling such things because he know from his own parents that you can’t really plan for stuff like that. Hermione’s an only child, so she doesn’t really get it, which he finds kind of sweet. Or did when she first mentioned that it might be time to consider a baby. Looking back, he probably should have had a good talk with her then, but having a baby meant having lots of sex. His mind had focused on that aspect and figured everything else would just take care of itself.

But it didn’t. After six months of shagging _a lot_ , she hadn’t even been late for one of her menstrual cycles, which she rarely talks about with him but that he still observes every month. He definitely would not want to be a girl, judging from the behavior changes and pain they go through each month. Six months. So terribly impatient, his Hermione, and wanting things to just work according to her plans, but life doesn’t go that way.

That’s when the craziness started. The trips to the Healers, the tests to make sure his sperm count was solid (as if a Weasley wouldn’t be virile. Hmph), to make sure she was ovulating (which still sounds weird to him because eggs make him think of chickens, which make him have weird nightmares of her nesting with eggs that hatch and show little redheaded frizzy haired chickens), and to make sure nothing was medically wrong. There wasn’t. They’re in perfect working order and their bits are baby-ready.

After exhausting that path, Hermione read a dozen and a half books, at least, on pregnancy and techniques. They’d experimented with sex in water, which they’d done more times than he could count prior to her focus and it had been more enjoyable those times than it was when she was stopping them to check her temperature or pulse or whatever the issue of the day happened to be. Nothing could make a man lose his erection like his beautiful wife stopping sex instead of just feeling and enjoying it. The counting got worse as there were more and more positions and ideas that the books said might work, but never did.

For the last four months, it’s been Red Circles and Black Xs. A Red Day means they get to shag, while a Black Day means he’s not allowed to even get her off with his hands or mouth because she doesn’t think it’s fair if she can come and he can’t. He hasn’t been able to wank in longer than he cares to remember because she read somewhere that too much wanking might lower his sperm count, which is just nonsense, but it’s not worth arguing with her. All of it’s made him not even want to have sex. There are some days when she starts it that he’s not even sure if he can perform, which is just humiliating. Of course, Hermione never seems to notice because, if she did, she’d see what this is doing to him, doing to _them_. The possibility that she sees but doesn’t care is unthinkable.

Since Harry told them that Ginny was pregnant, a surprise that they’d not even really wanted for another couple of years, Hermione has gone off the deep end. He loves her, loves her more than he can ever say because words aren’t his strength, but he’s so bloody tired of this. If she’d talk to him, just listen, it might help, but he tries, which is huge for him because he doesn’t usually initiate emotional discussions, and she won’t hear him. Or maybe she can’t. Or maybe he isn’t doing it right. The worst part is that he thinks that she blames herself for not being able to get pregnant, and considers herself a failure, which is stupid. Yet he doesn’t know how to get her to stop this before it destroys their marriage.

It needs to stop.

Or he has to at least _try_ instead of whinging and growing to resent her.

With a resolve that he hasn’t felt in years, he leaves the kitchen and walks upstairs to find Hermione. The house is quiet and too big for two people, but they moved in last year with thoughts of having a child or two in upcoming years. Now, it stands as a reminder of what they’ve been unable to accomplish. God, now he’s thinking about having a baby in similar terms as Hermione, which makes him run his fingers through his hair and tug slightly.

He finds her in the sitting room. She’s lying on the sofa reading a book, and he stops in the doorway to stare at her. After all these years, just the sight of her continues to take his breath away. Her hair is loose, falling around her face as she looks down, and she’s wearing faded denims with an old T-shirt of his. Seeing her in his shirt weakens him, makes him consider quietly going back downstairs to the kitchen, but he can’t go look at that calendar again.

“Hermione,” he says, grimacing when he hears how thick his voice sounds.

She looks up at him, and her smile is forced. He notices the circles beneath her eyes, so thick that he doubts magic could even hide them, and the cracks on her bottom lip from where she’s bitten is too much lately. “Is everything okay?” she asks as she closes her book and focuses on him.

“No, it’s not.” He’s proud that he doesn’t mumble yes and ask her what she wants for dinner, which is his first impulse when she looks at him. She frowns but he doesn’t falter as he walks towards the sofa. “It hasn’t been okay for a while.”

“What are you talking about, Ron?”

Her voice is snappy and impatient, which means he’s treading on dangerous ground. He knows her well enough to identify the majority of her moods and tones; it’s the only way they’ve managed to survive their relationship, he figures. They aren’t foolishly happy or living on love, always had had trouble with opinions and bickering, but they work hard at being together, which makes it better. If there weren’t trouble or fighting on occasion, it’d get pretty bloody boring.

_Focus, Weasley._ He stops walking when he reaches the sofa and glances at the space beside her, where her legs are lying. She tilts her chin stubbornly and narrows her eyes, and he shifts awkwardly as he tries to figure out what to say. She’s already taking it badly, which might be his fault for not starting this off any better, but she makes him so nervous when it comes to talking about this stuff.

“The baby stuff,” he blurts out, cringing slightly when she scowls and lets go of her book so she can wrap her arms around herself. He hates when they get like this, when nothing he says is right and she gets defensive, and they need a translator to communicate.

“The baby stuff,” she repeats slowly, practically glaring at him now as she pulls her legs up against her chest. “I’m well aware that that hasn’t been okay, Ronald. If it were, we’d be kept awake all night with the cries of our child.”

Ronald. Great. She’s _really_ annoyed at him, and he hasn’t even started yet. At her reply, though, he frowns and runs his fingers through his hair. “’s not that we don’t have one yet, Hermione. It’s that our marriage is falling apart, and you’re too busy making schedules for sex that you don’t see it.”

“What?” She blinks at him and looks so confused that it’s almost adorable, except for the fact that one wrong word from him will earn him a hex to bits that are already suffering enough lately.

Instead of answering, he sits on the sofa beside her and bites his lip. Should he take her hand? He wants to touch her, always wants to touch her, but he’s never been in this situation before, so he’s not sure what’s allowed and what isn’t. Fuck it. He reaches for her hand and drags his thumb over the back. “I’m tired.”

“You’re tired.” It’s never good when she repeats his words, no matter what the tone. “Well, that just makes everything different, doesn’t it? You’re tired, so we just, what? Give up? Consider this a huge failure on my part?”

“Stop,” he interrupts before she can really get going. He tightens his grip on her hand as he shifts on the sofa so that he can face her. “You’re not a bloody failure, Hermione. So we haven’t got pregnant yet. That’s not the end of the world, you know? Our bits are all working properly, so, one day, we _will_ have a baby. It doesn’t have to be on a schedule or make us miserable in the process.”

For a moment, he thinks he just messed everything up. She’ll leave him and run off to find Krum, who’ll probably be able to give her a dozen babies in no time. Then, she sniffs and looks so hurt that he can’t worry about himself, not when she’s upset.

“I want one now,” she whispers, looking down instead of at him. “I’m ready for a baby, but I didn’t realize---you’ve not said anything about being miserable.”

“I’m not,” he says quickly. “Hermione, look at me. Please.”

“No.”

He sighs and reaches over, gripping her chin as he urges her to look up. Once he can see her eyes, he tries to smile, which isn’t that easy right now. “You never told me---I mean, I thought the baby was just because of your age. Fuck. That doesn’t sound right. You never once told me that you wanted a baby. You just said it was time, and that we needed one because it fit with our lives right now.”

“Language,” she scolds before she frowns. “You thought I only wanted a baby because it fit in our schedules? And you didn’t stop to remind yourself that I’m not likely to suggest such a thing for that reason? Do you know me at all?”

“I know you, Hermione. And I didn’t think you didn’t want, but it’s seemed like you were so focused on the calendar it wasn’t about anyone wanting anything. That it was more a question of what week it is than whether you were excited about a baby. But---you never talk to me about this. You’ve shut me out from the start, and it’s just got worse as we’ve kept trying. We never talk anymore, not about important stuff.”

“You don’t talk, Ron. You hate talking. When I try to talk, you zone out or stammer a little before you distract me.”

“Stop being so logical. We do talk, or used to, and now I can’t even stammer because you don’t try to make me talk.”

She shakes her head and sighs. “I don’t know what you want. I tried to tell you that I wanted a baby, that I was ready for us to take that step, and I thought you understood. Now, you’re frustrated and blaming me for things that aren’t my responsibility. You’re part of this marriage, too, and I’ve never not listened to you or been selfish enough to not consider what you want.”

“I want us to live our lives without having to be on a blasted schedule. I’m sick of red circles and black x’s, of not being able to touch you whenever I want because it’s not planned,” he says. “I know that it’s my fault, too. I should have asked or done something instead of letting it fester for all this time. I know that, Hermione. But I’m talking now. I’m talking more than I have in all our years together, so you have to know how important this is to me. It’s just got worse, since Harry’s announcement, and I don’t want to lose you because we‘re unable to have a baby right this minute.”

His voice has risen since he started talking, and she’s staring at him, actually listening. Not that she doesn’t listen to him normally, but he isn’t used to saying all this emotional stuff. He’s better at showing her how he feels without messing it up with words. Still, she hasn’t hexed him yet, and they’re not really having a row. At least, not as far as he can tell.

“I’m jealous,” she admits in a voice so soft that he has to strain to hear her.

“Jealous?” Now he’s repeating her words, but he doesn’t care. He moves his hand from her chin to caress her cheek as he looks at her. “Why are you jealous?”

“Harry and Ginny.” She smiles wryly and blinks away tears. “They didn’t even want a baby, it was just a surprise and neither of them thought they were even ready. Yet we’ve been trying for over a year, doing everything I can think of, and we’re still not having one. And I hate that I‘m so jealous of them, that I can‘t stand listening to Ginny talk about all the problems because I‘d love to be going through if it meant we‘d have a baby, that I feel so envious of our best friends.”

“Oh, Hermione. You---” He doesn’t know what to say to that. While he knew she’d been wanting to try harder since Harry told them, he can’t believe that he’s been so bloody stupid. He shifts and feels guilty because he’s been so convinced that it’s her fault, that she’s been causing all the problems with the schedules and techniques, but he’s been a horrible husband. He feels like the failure now, because she’s needed him, and he’s been so interested in shagging her whenever he wants that he’s just missed so much. “Sorry.”

There’s dampness on her cheeks. “For what? Being honest?”

He’s made her cry, and he can’t even find words to make this better. “No. For not thinking about _why_ you were so focused lately. I just figured it was because the schedule wasn’t being met.” He sighs and leans forward to kiss her forehead. “I love you,” he whispers against her skin. “None of this matters. If we have to shag on nights with full moons or dance naked while chanting in some language I don’t understand, we’ll do it. Okay? We’ll have a baby, and we’re going to get through this because I love you so bloody much.”

She sniffs and laughs softly, which is a relief to hear after seeing the tears. “You just want us naked, Ronald,” she murmurs before she tips her head back so she can look at him. “We don’t have to. I’ve been obsessive, and I had no idea you were so frustrated. Maybe we’re just not meant to be parents yet.”

“Always want you naked,” he admits with a sheepish smile before he looks at her seriously. “We can do it if you want, Hermione. There are worse things in life than calendars full of red and black, after all, though I’d rather we mostly avoid those.” He kisses her cheek and hesitates a moment to see if she pushes him away before he kisses her nose then her other cheek. “Maybe it’s not time yet, but it’ll happen.”

“You’re right,” she says after a moment of pause. “It _will_ happen one day. It doesn’t matter about schedules and planning because they’ve not helped at all, so maybe it’s time that I just let it go. We can just have faith and be patient. Of course, my lack of patience is well known, so you might have to help me with that.”

“Are you sure?” He pulls back to look at her intently. His earlier resolve to end the madness of calendars has faded when faced with the reality of what she was going through, so he’s prepared to deal with no wanking and watching schedules for however long it takes.

She doesn‘t answer right away, which lets him know that she‘s actually thinking about it. “I’m sure,” she finally tells him. As if to prove the sincerity of her words, she leans forward to kiss him. He isn’t expecting her to move, though, and finds himself falling back onto the sofa under the sudden weight of her pressed against him.

“Oi, some warning next time.” He laughs and kisses her before she can scold him or ruin the moment. He can’t remember the last time he’s just kissed her for no reason, and a part of him still thinks she’ll suddenly pull back and remind him that it’s a Black X day, so he is relieved when she starts to return the kiss.

The feel of her tongue brushing against his makes him moan and close his eyes. He doesn’t care if they’re in an awkward position on the sofa or that they’ve just had a serious emotional talk. All Ron cares about is the fact that she’s soft and warm and kissing him back for the first time in ages when their intent isn’t to get pregnant. He isn’t sure how long they spend lying there kissing and doesn’t really care.

It’s like the early days, when they first started dating after the war and were living with Harry at Grimmauld Place. They spent so many hours on the sofa in the library, just being together and snogging and touching before life became more complicated. She shifts above him and her elbow hits him in the ribs, which breaks their kiss as he lets out of a groan.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, smiling down at him as she moves again. “Been a few years since we’ve snogged like teenagers.”

“I was just thinking that.” He grins as he brushes her hair back from her face. There are still lines at the corner of her mouth and dark circles beneath her eyes from too much stress over the last year and a half, but now he knows what’s been wrong and can help her relax again. He leans up and steals a kiss before he says, “Been too long for too many things.”

He flushes faintly at the thick tone in his voice, but Hermione doesn’t seem to care that he sounds like a soppy git. “It has,” she agrees before she lies against him more fully and slowly kisses him. It’s a teasing kiss, and more hesitant than any they’ve shared since they were married. He wonders if she honestly thinks he’s going to suddenly lose his mind and _not_ want to kiss her.

Foolish girl.

He wraps his arms around her and holds her closer as he deepens the kiss. When he feels her hand on his belly, he sucks in a breath and shudders. Her touch becomes more confident, as if she’s realized that they’ve done this enough times that she doesn’t have to worry or be scared, and she pushes his shirt up as they continue to kiss. Her nails drag against his skin, which finally snaps him out of his daze.

It’s time to stop lying there and enjoying what she’s doing when he can make her feel this way, too. He moves his hands beneath the T-shirt she’s wearing, touching her everywhere he can reach. She is straddling his leg, which he realizes when she slowly rocks forward and presses her thigh against his hardening cock. If he were one of those blokes who thought about things, he’d wonder if they shouldn’t stop. However, he isn’t one of them at all, so he just gives himself to this spontaneous moment and follows her lead.

Neither of them try to remove clothes; it’s not about that right now. Not even if he wants her naked most the time. He knows it isn’t important for this moment. This is about kissing and touching and renewing something that he’d feared was lost to goals and schedules. He reaches down to grip her arse lightly as he begins to meet her gentle grinding motion. By now, his cock has realized what’s happening and is hardening more with each kiss.

Hermione sighs against his lips when she pushes down hard and must have hit the right spot. “Lean back,” he murmurs huskily, watching her face as she sits up and looks down at him. She’s so gorgeous, with her flushed face and wild hair and heaving chest. He focuses on her tits, watching them move beneath his shirt in a teasing way that just makes him touch. He slides his hands beneath the shirt and cups her tits. Her bra is soft cotton and in the way, so he shoves it up and squeezes, twisting her nipples as she gasps and moves faster.

“Please,” she murmurs, though he has no idea what she’s asking him to do. He feels a moment of panic at doing the wrong thing, since she’s being bloody vague and there are _a lot_ of things he’d like to do right now. And the fact that it’s arousing as fuck to not be able to see her tits even as he touches them doesn’t help him focus much. She looks at him expectantly and rolls her hips more.

“Uh, please what?” He bucks up against her, moving to the left just enough to get more friction against his erection, and keeps groping her tits. He wants to see them but that can wait because he’s not sure he’d last at all after so long with her grinding against him and watching her tits bounce.

“Ron.” She laughs then, a real laugh that makes her look relaxed and carefree, and the look on her face is one he hasn’t seen enough lately. And he helped put it there, which makes him smile proudly even as he reaches down to pinch her side lightly for her laughing at him.

“No laughing at a man when he’s hard and trying to be seductive and sexy,” he warns her as he lets go of her tits and pulls his hands out from beneath the shirt. He tangles his fingers in her hair and urges her back down.

“I appreciate the effort, but you don’t have to try,” she tells him as she leans forward. “I always think you’re sexy, even when you’re being a fool.”

“I should be offended, shouldn’t I?” He kisses her again and arches up against her leg. When he pulls back, he grins. “Stop talking and kiss me, woman.”

“Flattered, not offended.” Despite her correcting him, she actually doesn’t argue with his request. Instead, she kisses him deeply, curling her tongue around his as she gradually starts to move faster.

The friction of her grinding and the fact that he hadn’t even been able to wank in days has him close already. There’s also the fact that she looks beautiful and isn’t tense and that he’s somehow lucky enough to be the one who gets to be with her, all of which have him bucking up towards her wildly not long after they stop teasing and focus.

Since he knows she’s not likely to come this way, not without more specific stimulation, he moves one of his hands between them and tries to unfasten her denims. He doesn’t manage to get the zip down, and he can’t unbutton them without using both hands, which is a pain in the arse yet necessary. He finally wiggles his hand between them and her belly enough to slide down into her knickers. She’s panting now, gripping his shoulders as he rubs her clit. It doesn’t take long before she whimpers and shudders, kissing his neck as she comes.

After she calms down, he grips her hips and thrusts up against her. He’s no longer worried about making sure she comes first, so he just focuses on his own release. She kisses him as he comes, catching his low grunt with her mouth. It’s been years since he came in his shorts like an inept schoolboy, but he’s not embarrassed this time. When he can breathe again, he kisses her face and holds her tight against him.

It won’t be easy to deal with their mutual desire for a baby and the fact they’re not having any luck getting pregnant yet. Right now, though, they’re finally talking about it, so Ron has to believe that they’ll be able to get through this so long as they do it together. After all, he knows they can do just about anything if they work together. And this is a good start, with her snuggled against him and this feeling of peace that surrounds them. Later, once he has to get up, the first thing he plans to do is use an _incendio_ on that bloody calendar. If he never sees another red circle or black x in his life, he’ll be happy. For now, though, he’s content to lie here holding her.

End


End file.
